Speeding and Taste Disorder
by Linlaah
Summary: Set before The Fourteenth Target. What if when she caused the accident that cost Kevin Simms the ability to taste, Nina Oliver hadn't driven off? What if she had helped him? Could she help him relieve his pain? AU to the movie.
1. Chapter 1

AN: OK, so this is my first (and possibly last) Case Closed/Detective Conan fic. The inspiration came from my friend Shanon, after we watched The Fourteenth Target. She said (and I swear these are her exact words) "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if Nins had been nice and had stopped to help Kevie?" And although I'm still confused as to why she called Nina "Nins" and Kevin "Kevie" I actually started thinking along the same lines. And well, thus came about this little story here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan or any of its associated characters/themes. They are the property of Gosho Aoyama.

* * *

(Nina POV)

I was speeding down the all but deserted streets in my car, enjoying the freedom that driving brought me. It always relaxed me after a long day at work to be able to drive like this. Some called it dangerous. I called it simply living life to the fullest. A beeping noise brought me out of my reverie and I glanced down at my cell phone, ringing away on the seat next to me. A name flashed on the small screen readout. _Jason Block._ I smiled as I answered, though it was a fake one. Just another actor guy who wanted me for my looks, money, and fame. Not for me. All the same, when he asked me on a date for the following night I didn't say no. After all, a girl has to at least try, right?

"I'll see you at seven--"

Just then I noticed that the light up ahead was flashing red. I let out a gasp as I slammed my foot down on the brake pedal, snapping the phone closed in my haste and tossing it on the passenger seat. The brakes screeched as they attempted to stop the car, though I realized I had acted a split second too late. My car continued into the intersection, before coming to a full stop. I had somehow managed to give the wheel a sharp turn to the left so I was angled away from any possible incoming traffic.

Much to my horror a guy on a motorcycle popped out of nowhere, swerved to avoid my car, and ended up crashing right in front of me. The guy went skidding on his helmet and back numerous feet before he staggered upright. My heart pounding in my chest part of my brain told me to just drive away. He couldn't be that hurt, right? He had stood up and everything. Not that he looked like he was even remotely alright. His body shook. He looked like he was going to collapse at any moment.

I couldn't just leave him there. It wouldn't be right. Unbuckling my seat belt I wrenched the door open and was on the street at a jog. Or at least, the kind of jog you can manage when you're wearing three inches stiletto heals. As I neared him I started to hyperventilate. What if he attacked me for running him off the road? I was more than a little tempted to run back to my car, but I held my ground.

"Are you okay? God, I'm sorry, but you appeared out of nowhere. I didn't see the light in time to stop, and then you came up, and I'm sorry!" I realized I was rambling and took a deep breath, trying to sooth my frazzled nerves. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked, in what I hoped was a more modulated tone.

The helmeted man turned his covered face toward me. "A-ambulance," he gritted out, before all of a sudden he fell forward towards the ground.

And like any girl would in this kind of situation, I screamed.

* * *

Two hours later I was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for the doctor. After the motorcycle man had passed out I had called an ambulance, just like he had said, waiting with him until it had come. I had then followed it to the hospital in my own car, where I met with police, to explain what happened. Before leaving they said they would get back to me in a day or two, depending on what happened with the man.

I didn't know why I was waiting for news on the guy -- I didn't even know him. But... for some reason I just couldn't seem to get my body to get up from this uncomfortable chair and leave. I guess it was a guilty conscience. Or it could have been that I was just in too much shock to walk.

Looking up I met my reflection in the large glass doors that made up the entrance to the hospital. At this time of night... what time was it? My eyes flicked to my watch. Twelve... midnight. My eyes traveled back to my reflection of their own accord. I looked like hell warmed over. My red hair was messed, and not at all in a good way. My eyes were wide, and still held a horror-filled quality. My makeup was horrendous, my lipstick gone, and my mascara and eyeliner missing, from when I had washed my face earlier in the restroom.

"Miss...Oliver?"

I lifted my head up to see a doctor in a long white lab coat standing a few feet away from me. The first thing I noticed was that his expression was grim. My stomach dropped at that. Staggering to my feet I fixed him with an incredulous stare.

"Oh god, he's dead, isn't he?" My voice trembled as I spoke. If the public saw me now my career would be over, not that I cared at the moment.

The doctor shook his head. "No... not dead... But he is still unconscious. Surgery went well, so now it's all just a matter of time. We won't know if there has been permanent damage until he wakes up."

_If he wakes up._ The unspoken words hung in the air between us. Breathing a sigh I ran a hand through my hair. At least he wasn't dead. Yet, that obnoxious part of my brain chimed in. "Can... I see him?"

"Under normal circumstances I would say no, since you are not family... but since these are not normal circumstances, I will grant you a few minutes. Follow me." He turned and led me down a hallway. The walk was silent, neither of us having anything to say. When he stopped he turned to face me again. "Five minutes, Miss Oliver."

I nodded dumbly as he walked away. I was standing staring at the door, both wanting and not wanting to go into the room. A small paper insert had been placed into the slot next to the door. _Kevin Simms_. So that was his name. I had been wondering. It didn't seem right to keep calling him 'the guy' or 'motorcycle man'. Taking a deep breath I forced myself to open the door and walk the few steps into the small hospital room. Like the rest of the establishment the room was a sterile white color, with hardly any furnishings. A hospital bed, a small bedside table in the corner, no window, and lots of machines.

Just looking at the machines that were beeping away, connected to the man -- Simms, I reminded myself -- Simms's body, made my blood run cold. A lump formed in my throat as I stepped cautiously closer to the bed. Now that he wasn't wearing that horrid motorcycle outfit and helmet I could get a good look at the man I had nearly killed.

I couldn't tell his height from this position, but I could see other things quite well. He looked... well, terrible was the word that came to mind. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, and he was oddly still. Despite being asleep there were none of the signs I was used to seeing in men. No snoring, no rising or falling of his chest, no occasional twitch. It was unnerving to look at him. I turned away, unable to bear staring at him any longer.

"I'm sorry... I really am," I murmured, though he couldn't hear me. "I... I have to go."

And I did, only making one final stop at the nurses desk. "I want him moved to a better room," I told the nurse on duty. "Send me the bill, will you?"

I had no idea why I was making the offer. It was going to cost me a fortune. But... seeing that man... Kevin Simms, in that awful little room... hadn't felt right to me. He deserved a better room.

"I'll be back to visit tomorrow. Call me if his condition changes."

After giving her my cell phone number I left. Left the hospital, got in my car, and drove back -- at a slower speed than normal -- to my empty apartment.

* * *

EN: Hopefully I didn't do too badly so far... I know this is a much different Nina Oliver than was in the movie, but since this story is AU anyway, I figured why not change her for the better? Tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Ugh... so this chapter was written in a bit of a hurry, so it hasn't been beta'd yet. . Not that I have a beta for it. Anywho, I hope you enjoy! As for my other stories, I have virtually no time or muse to write anything at all, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update. I'm sorry! *bows*

* * *

Chapter 2

Why was it that managers or agents always seemed to drone on about nothing at all? Mine sure had that ability perfected. For over half an hour she has been yelling her head off at me. Not that I even now what she's spouting on about; I tuned her out at the very first shriek. She's probably just lecturing me for being late, or for some other stupid reason like that. Come on, like it really matters if I'm five minutes later to a press conference. It's not like they're going to go anywhere without me. Besides, who does she think she is, lecturing me? She works for me, not the other way around. And I do my job well, unlike her.

"—So you have to show up on time from now on or else you won't get any more conferences to do."

Looking up from my nonfat latte I narrowed my eyes at her. "Excuse me? Why exactly are you telling me what to do? You're not the boss of me. If you keep doing that I might just be tempted to get you fired."

The agent frowned. "Sometimes I wonder if that would be better than having to put up with you." She threw her hands up in the air, obviously frustrated. "Whatever. I don't care anymore. Just try not to be late next time, ok? I can't keep dealing with angry press officials."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do my best." Smirking I raised my right hand and did a modified version of a salute. "After all, I live to please, your highness."

With a groan the woman stood up and walked away. As she went I was sure I heard her mumbling something like, "I hate my job."

My smirk grew and I laughed. I knew it was a bit mean, but I couldn't help it. That stupid woman had been getting on my nerves for weeks now, and she had it coming. Besides, all I did was annoy her a bit. What was the harm in that? Blinking I realized that my cell phone was ringing. I frowned. Who would be calling? I didn't have any work for the rest of the day, and I didn't have any dates. At least none that I remembered. Taking the phone out of my handbag I stared at the number readout on the front LCD screen. _3-555-092. _Huh. Absolutely no idea who that was.

I tried to remember if I had given my phone number to anyone, but I kept drawing a blank. The only person I had given it to was that nurse at the Baker Hospital… My eyes widened. Could it be someone from there? Snapping the phone open I held it to my ear.

"Hello? This is Nina Oliver."

_"Miss Oliver? This is Penelope Yamano, the nurse from last night. You told me to call if there was a change in Mr Simm's condition?"_

Oh God. Did I want to hear this? What if he had died? Suffered some massive internal bleeding or something? I suppressed a shudder. Was she calling to tell me that I had just been upgraded from 'Bad Driver' to 'Murderer? I was more than a little tempted to hang up before she had a chance to tell me. But curiosity had always been one of my weaker points, and it was now threatening to get the better of me. What was the worst that could happen? I could be sent to prison for killing that guy, that's what could happen! Curiosity killed the cat, as the saying went. And… wait, the nurse hadn't continued to speak. Was she waiting for me to respond?

_"Miss Oliver? Are you still there?"_

"O-Oh, y-yes. Um… sure, go ahead. Tell me." I hadn't just said that, had I?

_"Well, you'll be relieved to know that Mr Simms is out of danger. The surgery was definitely a success…"_

Something told me that there was more to it than that. I mentally sighed. I had a feeling this wasn't going to end well. "But?" I prodded impatiently, tapping my long acrylic nails against the counter in front of me. My eyes slid to the Styrofoam cup still half-full of latte. The milk foam was sticking to the sides of the cup, and by now it was almost cold. Ugh… not remotely appealing.

_"But," _the nurse continued, her voice lowering a bit, as though she was nervous. _"He still hasn't woken up yet. The doctor is a bit worried that he's in a coma."_

Shit. I had put him into a coma?

_"Or that he may be brain dead."_

Double shit! That was even worse than a coma! At least if he was only in a coma he might wake up. If he was brain dead… I grimaced. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was in deep trouble. I was at the top of a fifty story high-rise and I was looking down. I saw my career flash before my eyes. If word of this got out… I was doomed.

_"Miss Oliver? Hello? Hello?"_

I flinched at the sound of her voice on the other end of the line. "Y-yes?!" Crap. My voice sounded like a freaking cartoon character's, jumping up an octave like that. I needed to calm down. I didn't' want to attract unnecessary attention in case I was freaking out about nothing. Yes, yes, that was still a possibility. Maybe he would still wake up. I felt my body relax a fraction of an inch. Just try to keep thinking positive, Nina. Think. Positive.

_"I was just asking if you were planning on stopping by today? Our resident psychiatrist says that sometimes hearing a familiar voice will help to speed up the recovery process."_

"Oh." That's not what I was expecting. "Is that all?"

_"Yes, miss."_

This wasn't so bad. Not nearly as bad as I thought it was. She hadn't sounded like she was blaming me for what happened to him. But… wait, a familiar voice? Why the hell would she call me? I had only met the guy the night before, and that had only been for a few seconds before he had passed out! If he did remember my voice, I doubt it would do him any good anyway. Why would he want to hear the voice of the woman who had put him in the hospital in the first place? Ugh… this was not going well… But I couldn't just say no. That would be suspicious. Oh, I know what to do!

"I'm at work right now, and I don't know if I can get away. Isn't there anyone else you can call? Family, maybe?"

_"None that we could find. Mr Simms's closest relations aren't living in the country at the moment."_

Damn. I had so thought I was off the hook. I could still use the 'I'm at work, leave me alone' excuse, but I kind of felt sorry for him. His family was in another country, and obviously the nurse couldn't come up with anyone else to call other than myself. Was he alone in Japan? I felt a twinge of something stir in my chest. He was just like me… I sighed. I just couldn't bring myself to say no, not after hearing that.

"Alright," I murmured. "I'll come as soon as I can. I have to finish work first, but I'll be by after. When do visiting hours end?"

I could almost hear the smile in her voice when she replied, _"At five."_

"Very well, I'll make sure to come before then." I paused, trying to remember her name. What had she said it was? P… P something. No good, I couldn't remember. Last name? Yakano? Yamaka? Yamano? Yeah, that seemed right. "Thank you for your call, Miss Yamano."

* * *

When I arrived at his room I hesitated before entering. In my left hand I held a bouquet of irises. I don't know what had brought it on, but on the way I had gotten the sudden urge to take him some flowers. At the store the saleswoman had said that these purple and white irises were very popular among people who sent them as get well gifts. Somehow I wasn't sure they were the most appropriate, but at least they were pretty and they smelled nice. Maybe they would even be able to help to relieve some of the stuffiness that seemed to accumulate in all hospital rooms.

I looked up from the flowers and back to the door. I blinked once, than twice. Why was I just standing here? I should go in and get it over with. I had a date for that evening, with a nice guy from work. All right, so he really wasn't that nice of a guy. He was some sleazy producer who was directing a movie I really wanted to star in. Given that tiny little detail, the moment he asked me out I knew I couldn't refuse. Not if I wanted a chance at staring in the movie at least.

I looked down at my watch. 3:00. Two more hours before visiting time was over with. And three hours after that I had the date. I wasn't really looking forward to the latter, but I knew that prolonging this visit wasn't going to help me in any way. Taking a deep breath I forced my free hand to reach out for the doorknob, forced it to twist the circular object, and push the door open. I then forced my feet to walk into the room. My eyes flitted from one side to the other appreciatively. The room wasn't so bad. Bright, and not exactly cheerful, but it was bigger than I thought it would be, and it didn't smell too bad. It would do, I decided.

Each step I took led me closer to the bed and I felt my heartbeat increase. By the time I reached the bed my heart felt like it was doing double time and I was sweating. Great, was I having a heart attack now from stress? Calm down. I needed to calm down. I took another deep, wavering breath, attempting to slow my heart rate down.

After about ten of those I started to feel more like myself. That was much better. Walking over to the window I winced as the only sound was the echoing of my high heels on the linoleum floor. Why did they make shoes that made so much noise? Couldn't they make shoes that looked pretty and were quiet? I was definitely going to write the manufacturer a note about that. Well, probably make my agent write it, but at least I thought of it.

I narrowed my eyes at the closed blinds. The overhead fluorescent lights may have provided light to the room, but why were these blinds closed? It made the room seem a bit… depressing. Placing the flowers down on the table in front of the window I reached out and snatched hold of the blinds, sliding them to one side to let in the sun. My lips turned upward at the corners. That was much better. Now if only…

"Hmph. I wish these things opened. How pathetic. And they call this a _good_ room," I complained. "I'll have to have a talk with them about that too."

I sighed as I stared out the window. Why was I even bothering to talk? It wasn't like the guy could hear me. He was dead to the world. Not literally, but even so, could people hear things while they were that unconscious? I wasn't so sure. Guess it wouldn't hurt to try though. What did I have to lose?

"I don't really see the point in this, but whatever. I would have come earlier, but my agent kept bugging me. She's such a pain." I huffed, "Seriously, what does it matter if I'm five minutes late? Will the world end or something? She needs to relax and learn how to have fun in life." Not forgetting that the last time I had 'fun' was when I was out driving last night. Another mysterious chest twinge. " She just doesn't seem to understand that I don't want to live _my_ life at _her_ pace. Would you want to?"

I wasn't expecting an answer of any kind, so when I heard a groan coming from the vicinity of the bed I almost jumped right out of my skin. And, although I'm not remotely proud to admit it, I let out a shriek. Whirling around I saw that indeed, I hadn't imagined the groan, because black eyes were staring at me from a too-pale face. Shit.


End file.
